A morning that doesn’t begin well. The anxiety clouding a husband’s poor health. Waiting for doctors’ visits. Waiting on test results. The slam of a bedroom door.
this patch of blue
beyond the pine bough
Stifling August heat in an auction barn. Sweat rivulets down the small of my back. Waiting for the auction, I read newspaper that lines a dresser drawer; the small crimes of a small town don’t change, only the names.
Shrewd buyers are up from Paducah to bid on a trunk of old quilts. They spread the quilts in harsh sunlight looking for rips, repairs and the faint, yellow stains of sweat and urine; semen and tears.
where we made love—